Anna stared back at every one with undaunted composure. “That’s suicidal bullshit, Lucy. It was a boy baby cooing in swaddling clothes, a baby who had just been born to the butcher's servant across the alley, the maid Isobella who trailed behind, beaming. She met the keen grey eyes of a clean-shaven man, between forty and fifty, quietly dressed in professional attire. If I had been your companion only, and not your master, I might very well have been content to accept you for what you seem. To that, perhaps, a large part of its satisfyingness was due. “You can keep him at arm’s length. Her spirit awoke in dismay to an affection in ruins, to the immense undignified disaster that had come to them.
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